At the beginning of these, I always feel compelled to let you all know that HYN’s will be no grammatical masterpieces. They are something like a public “journal entry,” if you will, which by the way, any of you could send in if you wanted to. You do not need to be an “author” for the site. Email email@example.com if that is something you are interested in. The whole premise of WYSB, despite any philosophical ramblings of mine, is everyone has stories that, while unique in their own right, are very similar in the end. For whatever reason, these “how’s your now’s” seem to generate the most traction, which I believe proves the theory that we are all connected in some capacity. People care, and that is comforting to know. I’d like to thank any WYSB “fans” that we do have for continuing to read. One day, I am going to come out with merch for y’all. With no further ado, here is a solipsistic rant documenting ‘how I am doing now.”
It was great to see Jordan Peterson live in Nashville. My cousin Brit messaged me, saying what a great experience it must have been to meet my “idol.” I know what she means, so I won’t attack her choice of words. If we take the second definition of idol, being “a person or thing that is greatly admired, loved, or revered,” that is exactly what he is. I’ll put it like this: Had it not been for finding a spiritual pathway shown to me by the people “in the rooms,” my family and friends’ support while I got the help I needed, then Jordan would have been the most prominent figure in my “resurrection,” let’s say. He is third or fourth on the list, but hey, how is one supposed to compete with God and family? I’ve heard people criticize Jordan with a line sounding like, “He just says shit that we already know.” Maybe, or do you now understand what you already knew because it has been properly articulated? Understanding and knowing are two different things. Of course, University children shit on him. A bunch of twenty-year-old’s calling a clinical psychologist a “dumbass.” Push postsecondary education out to sea. You leave postsecondary education more stupid than when you went in. “You dropped $150,000 on a fuckin’ education you could’ve got for $1.50 in late charges at the public library.” Anyway, there is a whole lot to say about the night itself, but uhh, “she” might read this, so we will hold off on all of that. Yes, that sort of defeats the purpose of WYSB, but we shan’t do things in haste, my friends. In due time, I will let you all know about it after I say something stupid, assuming I haven’t already, and nothing manifests.
The Mind from a Small Room and The Ocean-Blue’s of Nadeja, which I worked on simultaneously, took a lot out of me. Those two pieces were an “emptying of the clip,” you could say. I haven’t had a lot to say since; however, The Exodus Notes are coming, probably not any time soon, but there is a piece of content to look forward to. “My” authors are something else, man. I really enjoy their work, and I hope you do, too. Miss Alexa, Miss Paula, and Paul’s stories perfectly describe what I envisioned WYSB to be. Allow me to take this time to plug Miss Alexa’s music: Spotify – Alexa Shea. Some of these records *bang* in the whip. You can catch me on Instagram belting them out. My friends think I like men when I do that, but they can’t steal my thunder when “Breakthru” comes on. Lastly, you interested in my thoughts about Russia and Ukraine? I don’t give a fuck about either one of them, nor should you. Okay, here we go:
The Good: I’m almost there. About a month to go before I will have gone two consecutive years without booze. I suppose I’ll say, “knock on wood,” but alcohol is simply not a part of my life anymore. You never say never, of course, because how am I to know how I will react to, God forbid, some sort of tragedy; however, “the obsession has been removed.” There was a time when I felt guilty for saying that, as if it were some type of arrogant statement, but it happens to be the truth. Unless the person who invited me has forgotten, I’ve been invited to speak at an event next month. The Jordan Peterson event was perfect timing as I was able to see how he commanded the stage. Hopefully, I can generate the same kind of presence.
My jumper has improved tremendously, although the entire town must know when I miss a shot. “FUCK!” echoes throughout the little city. Depending on how you look at it, the great or unfortunate thing about basketball is that if you miss a shot, it is entirely your fault. It’s the same thing in reverse. If the shot drops, good work. That was all you. For the most part, of course. There are instances of sheer luck, but not many.
WYSB received 4,564 views last month. That is a record by far and away. When I created the site in September of 2020, the site garnered a grand total of 183 views that next October. How about that? Need more likes, shares, comments, and subs, though. I believe the eventual goal is to release a WYSB book when there is enough content.
I’m extremely grateful for a plethORa (That’s how that word is pronounced. Isn’t that annoying?) of people in my life. Grandma, obviously, always, but I want to take this time to appreciate the two people in the “group text.” Yeah, we have them too, ladies, and we are talking about you. Marv (my cousin) and Matt are just awesome people to talk to – about anything and everything.
The Bad: The mind is a fucking warzone at times. If I latch on to someone or something, that someone or something consumes my entire focus, and you can forget about me paying attention to anything else. Oh-see-dee, probably. We can throw this in “the good” category, but reliance upon God is inarguably the greatest weapon in that war. Immediate peace can be found it seems. But, yes, the mind can go a thousand different directions, good or bad, and I must remind myself that the mind is really not my own. It is going to do what it is going to do; my job is to decipher which files to keep, and which files to delete, for the mind is very much akin to a computer. If the mind does not belong to me, where do these negative thoughts come from? I can’t describe it any other way than there are evil forces in play that I cannot see. Before I continue, part of “exposure therapy” is to write out the thing you are most fearful of, and while he is no longer what I fear most, allow me to type the name: Satan. I’m caught in two minds when it comes to mocking that evil force. Listen, it seems to work calling him an LF (if you know, you know), insofar as it makes me laugh, but I’m not sure that is the way to go about it. He will use that as ammunition to try and summon my downfall even further, methinks. Here is what does work best: “You lost already; you took the L of all L’s on that third day. Stick around if you want (Buddha invited Mara in for tea), but I’m just saying- Jesus already Mariano Rivera, closed this game.” If this all sounds crazy, I concede that it probably is, but I refer you to sentence one of “the bad.”
What else is bad? Still gamble a bit, so that’s not great, although the Kings puck-lining the Sabres was a W. Put this in “the good” as well: The Los Angeles Kings are a good hockey team. What a pleasant surprise.
The Ugly: Mercifully, I’m headed to see my arch-nemesis, the dentist (the Sun used to have that moniker), next week. It’s possible that I have insurance from my job, but I generally try to avoid any interference with pay. Unfortunately, I can’t remember if I elected to take it. If I’m not insured, the trip to the dentist is going to be something like, “Here is my budget, do the best you can do,” and then I’ll just have to be that person insisting that other people should “accept me for who I am.” Remember that scene from Liar Liar?
Max: “My teacher tells me beauty is on the inside.”
Fletcher: “That’s just something ugly people say.”
Oh my God! I’ll wrap up with this, something that can be in “the good” and “the ugly.” When I got back in the area after returning from the Jordan Peterson event, I stopped at the gas station to get a coffee. I know, I know, “that’s why you’re off to the dentist.” Shut up. Anyway, as I was putting my car in park, this guy walking by my car was looking at me all weirdly. Maybe because I was fuckin’ turnt up to the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s. His weird look at me made me forget that I hadn’t yet put the car in park and stopped the upward swing of the shift at “reverse.” Follow me? Between “Heads Will Roll,” Jordan Peterson, and that girl I won’t yet mention by name (lol), I had a lot on my mind. I get out of the car, go inside the gas station, and the car starts rolling away, heading toward a deep ass ditch, or a concrete light pole. Neither one of those things good. That guy giving me that weird-ass look hopped in and stopped it without a second to waste. Amazing. No other explanation: God’s work. I gave the guy fifty bucks. He was happy with it. Phew! I am something of a ridiculous man..
How’s Your Now: Josh Nourse – 3/8/22.